Thursday, October 8, 2015

New at Kindle Worlds--Turn Card by Destiny Blaine

A Kindle Worlds Novel 

~Not everyone plays by the rules

Kade Dennon tried to stay away from his brother’s girlfriend and remain loyal to the only family he’s ever known but Kathleen Turner is his forbidden fruit. Eventually temptation drags Kade back to Indianapolis and the one woman who feels like home. 

~The players changed but the game remains the same~ 

Kathleen Turner knows what she wants and who she desires. She seizes a new job and an opportunity unfolds. Soon, she’s working with her boyfriend’s brother and nothing will ever be the same again when Kade stakes a claim and aims for Kathleen’s heart. 

~It's impossible to break a player who refuses to lose~ 

Blane Kirk needs his brother Kade to keep his girlfriend safe but when Blane sends Kathleen out of Indianapolis to protect her, he has no idea what kind of danger Kade and Kathleen will find while testing a new Las Vegas casino loyalty program. When an old enemy resurfaces with threats and an agenda, Blane goes to Sin City to warn his brother and discovers a few unwanted surprises of his own. 

~A house of cards now destined to fall~ 

Working side by side, Kathleen’s and Kade’s relationship quickly changes, a fact they can’t deny. Seduction and passion lead them to a night that will scorch the sand right off the Mohave Desert and this time, foreplay won’t sustain them. With no one to stop them, Kade and Kathleen tread into the realms of unforgivable betrayal. And when Blane arrives in Vegas, he realizes too late that his brother is now playing for keeps. 

Beta Readers’ Favorite Lines and Scenes from Turn Card

1. The older woman looked like she’d taken a plunge off the backside of sixty-five and wasn’t too happy about it

2. “Hello, princess.” This time his smile lit up the room. “I’ve been expecting you.”

3. He took a deep breath, debating on how much he should tell her. “Call it fate.”
“Manipulation is a better word.”

4. She headed for the door and he should’ve let her walk away. Instead, he was like a launching grenade, slow to peak but explosive once he gathered her in his arms.

5. “I do get to walk away because that’s exactly what I did in Chicago. And if the roles had been reversed? I would’ve expected nothing less from you.”

6. “It’s early,” she replied. “And I heard something.”
“Probably that cat of yours.”
“He’s territorial.”
Kade inched closer. “He’s not the only one.”

7. “I still have time to decide.”
“Maybe, but at least play fair. Think about Kathleen and her happiness. Don’t make her wait for you if you already know that she could end up being the mistress you love but will never allow yourself to have.”
“I don’t like what you’re suggesting.”
“Neither do I,” Kade said. “Because it’s the truth.”

8. “It’s Blane. Did I interrupt something?”
Kade swore under his breath and nudged the Santini gunman with his foot. He had lost count of how many times Blane had “interrupted” something. “Yeah, big brother, as a matter of fact you did.”

9. Not every woman dreams of Prince Charming. He’s just the one who has enough money to buy his way to the top. It doesn’t mean he has enough charisma or appeal to stay there.”

10. “You’re gambling on the wrong girl, Kade.”
“And you’re going all-in on forever, are you?” Kade balked at that. “No worries, Blane. I know the lady belongs to my brother. But for now, she’s on my arm. You need to come to terms with that and let us do what we came here to do.”

11. Kade lowered his head and whispered, “Trust me, princess. If we browse for toys, I won’t be in the market for shiny little cars and wind-up dolls. You and I will shop for a different kind of plaything. And we’ll need a lot of batteries for what I have in mind.”

12. Blane grabbed Kade by the shoulders and threw him against the sofa like he weighed nothing. “You’re fucked now, little brother.”
Kade, smart-ass that he was, fired back, “No, fucked was last night.”

13. Blane was like an ox, driving forward with his head to Kade’s gut until Kade landed on the sofa with Blane topping him for another round of motorized-like punches. “You just couldn’t help yourself!”
“Oh I helped myself all right.”
“You bastard!” Blane hit him again.
Kade let him have a few in the beginning. After all, he deserved them. Now, he had no other choice but to fight back.

14. Perturbed by his casual mannerism after they’d made out in front of a lone audience, she bit out, “Sometimes I wonder how you go to sleep at night.”
“Easy…with your name on my lips.”

Available now at Amazon Kindle Worlds 

Release Blitz for Sexual Sorcery and CM Fontana

Sexual Sorcery: An Erotic Tale of Sex, Mystery and the Occult, in Victorian England by C M Fontana

An unwitting academic stumbles into the erotically-charged occult underworld of Victorian London. With a cast of characters including an investigator with a talent for seduction, a mesmerist collecting a harem of beautiful ladies, and a woman who believes she has had sex with Satan, Sexual Sorcery is a sizzling story of decadence, conspiracy and carnality.
When a collection of books go missing from the University's collection, Fredrick Clifford travels to London in search of the likely culprit, an apparently respectable gentleman named Victor Braystone. But he soon finds that he is not the only one with an interest in Mr Braystone, and the manipulative Catherine Wolseley soon draws him into her own schemes.
As he, Miss Wolseley and their seductive accomplice begin to unravel Mr Braystone's plots, Fredrick Clifford finds himself both confused and entrapped in a shocking world of of sex and duplicity. And as the trail leads him from the seductions of a London club to a Satanic altar in the wilds of the Welsh borders, he struggles to make sense of both the dark uncertainties of the occult, and of an unfamiliar realm of debauchery and sex.

Buy Links:

Author Bio:
C M Fontana is a British erotic author, fusing plots of mystery, intrigue, and the supernatural with racy erotica. The first full-length novels, Sexual Sorcery, was published for Kindle in September 2015, with two novellas continuing the series released soon after.
Author Website:
Author Twitter: @mystic_erotica

By Saturday morning, Fredrick had still not had time to visit the agency to advertise for a new domestic servant, and he was becoming heartily sick of bread and marmalade for breakfast – or, indeed, for any other meal that he could not reasonably eat out. It was also an irritation that he had to answer his own front door, and now he found himself greeted at his front step by a small grubby boy, in bare feet and ragged trousers, presenting him with a sealed envelope.
He took the letter, tipped the boy a coin, and closed the door.
The paper was expensive, that handwriting feminine. Inside, a note simply read:
Two o’clock. My carriage will collect you. We cannot have gaps in your education as a gentleman. Please be an attentive student. Such classes are not inexpensive.
And that was all. He assumed that it was from Miss Wolseley, and resigned himself to having to follow her cryptic instructions. In the meantime, he thought, he would finish his newspaper, and then visit the agency to and see if they could alleviate his domestic difficulties.
And so, soon after lunchtime, after a satisfactory visit to the agency he found on returning to his house a familiar carriage parked outside.
“My good man, am I late?”
“Not at all Sir,” the gruff coachman tipped his hat. “I’m early. Take your time, Sir. We aren’t due til ‘alf past.”
Fredrick re-emerged promptly at two o’clock, and climbed into the carriage, and sat back while it bounced and swerved through the city’s congested streets. Out of the window he saw gentrified houses, and, as the traffic moved slowly on the main roads, although the journey was barely two miles, it took over twenty minutes. He was relieved to find that they stopped in a fashionable West End street.
He stepped down from the carriage, and the coachman indicated the door across the road.
He crossed the street and rapped with the brass door knocker.
Promptly, the door was opened, and a short, grey haired maid opened the door.
“Fredrick Clifford,” he introduced himself. “I may be expected?”
“Of course,” the maid curtseyed, with a hint of an accent, perhaps Italian or French, and stepped back to let him in.
She took his coat, hat and cane, and then led him up the stairs, and into a well furnished sitting room. Tall windows let light flood into the room through lace curtains, the room was decked with a range of plushly upholstered chairs and settees, the largest of which, unusually, seemed to be the size of a single bed, but with ornate arms and a high back.
The maid motioned him to take a seat in a plush chair by the window. She assured him, “I will say that you have arrived,” and then withdrew.
As he waited, he looked around. The décor was, the more he considered the details, eccentric.
Not only were the chairs unusually deeply upholstered, and the main sofa far wider than was needed, but there were numerous sturdy hooks, which looked like they might have hung chandeliers before gas lighting was installed, both in the ceiling and also, inexplicably in the skirting board at the foot of the wall. There was also a faint but spicy scent in the air, which he suspected might be incense – an unusual scent to encounter outside of a High or Catholic church.
The door opened, and he turned to see a tall, graceful woman step into the room. She wore a red silk robe like a dressing gown, and around her neck an ornate necklace of black beads. Her brown hair hung loosely in flowing curls, cascading over her shoulders, and Fredrick’s eyes were drawn further down, to the sides of her firm breasts, indecently visible where the two sides of the robe met.
“I’m so sorry!” he instinctively stood up and turned his back on her, to stare fixedly out of the window.
“And why, Mr Clifford, are you sorry?” The voice was soft, the accent unmistakably continental.
“I am… that is to say…” He could barely hear her approach, her bare feet on the carpet. “Perhaps I should return when you are properly dressed.”
Her voice, now just over his shoulder, chided, “Mr Clifford, I was told that you were a gentleman.”
“Well, yes!” he replied, indignantly.
“And is it polite, when a lady enters a room, turn your back on her, and then proceed to criticise her choice of clothing.”
“Well, I… there is a question of what is appropriate!”
“Your lessons today,” she corrected him, “are to deal instead with the question of what is courteous – gentlemanly. You may be quite right about what is appropriate. But this afternoon, that is not our subject.”
To Frederick, what was gentlemanly and what was appropriate seemed intimately connected. But Miss Wolseley had, presumably, some purpose in sending him here.
“I apologise,” he conceded, turning to face her. It would be a shame to argue with such an attractive hostess.
She smiled and inclined her head. “Then shall we start again?”
Fredrick nodded.
The woman turned and walked softly back to the door. He watched her robe sway against her legs, and was impressed by her grace. She left the room, and shut the door after herself. Fredrick sat down again, and waited.
After a minute, the door opened again, and the woman returned.
Fredrick stood up, and stepped forwards to greet her. “Fredrick Clifford, Madam. At your service.”
She held out her hand, palm down, and he took it gently, and bowed slightly as he motioned to kiss it. He could not help, bending forward, but appreciate the gentle curve of her breasts, barely draped in thin red silk.
“Signorina Maria Cenci,” she replied with a hint of a curtsey. “Charmed to meet you, Sir.”

She motioned him across to the wide sofa, strewn with cushions, and when he sat she took a seat next to him. Her robe fell open at the knee, revealing her slender, pale calf, and Fredrick made an effort not to look too intently.
The door opened again, and the elderly maid entered, carrying a tray, which she set down on the table by the settee.
“Milk and sugar, Mr Clifford?” Signorina Cenci asked.
“Please, yes.”
“Tell me Mr Clifford, she asked, as she poured the tea and the maid withdrew, “how should a gentleman behave towards a lady?”
Fredrick considered for a moment, and then, taking the cup and saucer offered to him, replied: “A gentleman should always be respectful.”
“And why is that important?” she asked. And when Fredrick had no ready answer, she clarified, “Why should a gentleman be respectful to a lady, and not, perhaps, to a tree or stone?”
“Obviously, trees and stones don’t have feelings!”
“So when you say respectful, you mean that you should be aware of the lady’s feelings?”
“Quite so,” Fredrick said, taking another sip of tea and then setting the cup aside. “The male is the stronger sex. It is our duty to protect, both physically and mentally, the frailer gender. It shows us to be civilized human beings, and not savages.”
“And so,” Signorina Cenci asked, “you see that, if a man turns his back on a woman as she enters the room, she might be upset. In which case, the gentlemanly response is to greet her courteously, perhaps?”
“I see your point, Madam,” Fredrick acknowledged, not wanting to argue.
“But is it also gentlemanly,” she teased, “as you bend down to kiss her hand, to stare so intently at her breasts?”
Fredrick blushed, “I am so sorry, Madam, I didn’t intend to.”
She laughed, and stood. “Then shall we try again?”
“Of course, if you wish.”
She left her tea cup on the table, walked to the door, turned, paused, and then returned towards the sofa.
Fredrick stood, stepped forward, and took her hand when she offered it. This time, as he bent and motioned to kiss her hand, he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
Again Signorina Cenci laughed.
“Mr Clifford,” she smiled, placing her hand on his arm. “Do you really think that if a lady deliberately appears dressed like this – ” she raised her other hand to her neck and let her index finger slowly trace a line along the hem of the robe, down her chest, over the mound of her breast “ – that she does not want to be admired?”
“Really, Madam, I protest,” Fredrick sighed, “You say that I should not stare, and now you say that I should stare. What am I to do?”
“Mr Clifford, you are to be a gentleman. You are to behave with consideration for the lady’s feelings.” Seeing that he was still confused, she continued. “If you stare dumbly at my chest – “ she turned slightly, so that he could fully appreciate the silhouette of her breasts – “I might consider the stare to be aggressive, or I might worry that you are no longer capable of rational thought. You are still capable of thought, Sir?”
He raised his eyes from the curve of her robe, to look her in the eye again. “Yes, of course.”
“But if you ignore me entirely, I might think that I have failed to impress you, or that you consider me ugly. You do not consider me ugly, do you?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Then, Mr Clifford, please, stop trying to guess what the rules are. There is but one rule to being a gentleman. Consideration for the feelings of the other person. And so, consider my feelings, and act accordingly.”
“Very well,” Fredrick acquiesced.
“Then shall we try once more?”
She walked back to the door, and again turned to face him. She paused for a moment. “Are you ready, Sir?”
Fredrick nodded.
She ran her finger down the front of her robe, and deliberately opened the gap at her chest a little further, so that the sides of both breasts were quite bare. “Are you certain?”
Fredrick paused for just a second and then answered confidently: “Yes, Madam.”
Signora Cenci walked across the room, her hips swaying, and held out her hand, palm down.

Fredrick took her hand. As he bowed and raised it towards his mouth, he let his eyes glance over her soft flesh, and at the lowest point of his bow he glanced up to look her in the eye. Then he looked back towards her hand as he stood, and looked her in the eye again, keeping a lingering hold of her hand before releasing her.
“Mr Clifford!” she smiled, “Have you not been taught that it is too forward, even impertinent, to look a lady in the eye as you kiss her hand?”
“Signora Cenci,” he countered, “From the way that you adjusted your gown, I understood that you wanted me to be forward, even impertinent.”
“Bravo!” she clapped her hands three times and smiled. “Please sit, and explain to me your strategy.”
As they both sat down, he on her right, she on his left, he explained. “I trust that you wanted,” he glanced again at the curve of her breast, “to be appreciated, but with discretion. And I gathered that you would not mind a little impertinence. When I first looked up at your eyes, you could have looked away, but you did not. And so I inferred that a little more impertinence might be in order before I released your hand.”
“Perfect, Mr Clifford! You considered my feelings, and acted accordingly. One might almost say, appropriately?”
Fredrick smiled, “Yes, I think that you have proved that point.”
“Which is exactly why you are here,” she explained. She put her right hand behind her on the settee and turned her body towards him. “I am told that you are an intelligent, educated gentleman. But you have been taught to be a gentleman by following a set of rules. And now you find yourself in situations where the rules do not seem to work. Situations for which no rules have been written. Is this so?”
Fredrick nodded, “Increasing so, it seems.”
“And you are particularly unsure how to deal, in certain, unusual situations, with ladies?”
“I understand how to make polite conversation,” he admitted, “but there there are things, I find, that I do not really understand.”
“And that is why you have been sent to me,” Signora Cenci smiled. “Because if you are to be a gentleman in these situations, you will be more confident, yes?”
“I suppose so, yes.”
“And to be a gentleman you need only two things. You need to act with consideration or the other person. And you need to understand what the other person wants. You see?”
“Theoretically, I suppose.”
“At this moment, yes, quite theoretically. Because you do not know enough about what a woman wants, and so you cannot treat her…. appropriately. So we shall give you a basic understanding.”
She looked at him, saying nothing more.
He felt that he was expected to react in some way, but had no idea how.
“Mr Clifford,” she flicked her long hair over her shoulder, and then lowered her hand to her knee, where she parted her robe a little. “You are alone with a woman who has chosen to greet you in a quite indecorous outfit – so indecorous, that she has not even troubled to put on underwear, but instead has nothing between you and her but a single layer of very soft, very thin silk. And now she has sat mere inches from you, turned her body towards you, and is now waiting for you. Can you not imagine a gentlemanly reaction?”
He sat, confused, uncertain.
“To make this simple,” Signora Cenci coaxed, “you have two options. If you are not sure what I want, then you can construct some witty, sensitive line of conversation to draw me into disclosing my desires. Or you can take action, in such a way that my response will tell you more of what I want…. Do you feel able to engage in witty conversations at this moment?”
He shook his head, mutely.

“Then Mr Clifford, take action!”

Monday, October 5, 2015

Release Blitz for Join The Club – Club Aegis Series by Christie Adams

Join The Club – Club Aegis Series by Christie Adams @ChristieAdams #clubaegis #britromance
Series Blurb: Club Aegis

Aegis – the shield of Zeus, and by extension, a means of protection. The men and women who are members of Club Aegis have all played their part in protecting their country. They work hard…and they play hard. Their lives are not always easy – and sometimes they have to put their lives on the line, not just for their country but for those they love.

Purchase Links

The Velvet Ribbon (Club Aegis 1)       
Love Is Danger (Club Aegis 2)             
A Wanting Heart (Club Aegis 2.5)       

Blurb: The Velvet Ribbon (Club Aegis 1)

Alex Lombard is a Dom with a dark past. The former SAS officer, now a successful businessman, carries the scars of his past both on his body and in PTSD-induced nightmares resulting from more than just his service to his country. The light in his life takes the form of his assistant, Beth Harrison, the woman whom he has secretly coveted since she came to work for him.

Beth has been attracted to her employer from the day she met him. When not at work, she fills her time with writing stories featuring the BDSM lifestyle she craves but has not yet found the courage to explore. Though she knows nothing of his extra-curricular interests, Alex is the inspiration for the Dom in her latest novel.

Then Alex makes a chance discovery, and when Beth becomes the victim of a street crime, the two of them come together to find what is missing from both their lives. However, their path to happiness is beset not just by the teething troubles of a new relationship—a ghost from Alex’s past has returned, bent on revenge, and Alex is not the only one in his sights…

NOTE: This work was previously published. It has been retitled, expanded and re-edited for this release.

Blurb: Love Is Danger (Club Aegis 2)

Having only just dumped her lecherous two-timing boyfriend, Stacie Matheson never expected, when her car broke down in a storm, to be rescued by a tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed knight in a shining Jaguar. Cam is everything her ex was not—and more besides.

Now that his old friend Alex has settled into married life with his submissive, Beth, Cameron Fraser is ready to surrender his single status. What he isn’t ready for is being blindsided by a beautiful curvy damsel-in-distress.

Fate has brought them together – the Dom who needs a submissive, and the woman who takes her first steps into the world of submission at his side. However, there’s more to Cam’s life than the sensual games he plays with Stacie. When that life intrudes on their relationship, neither is prepared for the devastating consequences.

Blurb: A Wanting Heart (Club Aegis 2.5)

What happens when a former Royal Navy officer is given a second chance with the woman he loves?

Ryan Quinn is still in love with the woman he lost three years ago. For him, there can be no other. When he sees Fiona again at her sister’s wedding, he has no choice but to risk his heart for a second time, by reminding her of what they once shared.

How wrong can a woman be?

Tragic and complicated family circumstances had left Fiona Pearce with no option but to turn her back on the man she loved and drive him out of her life. When his path crosses hers again, she feels compelled to apologise, even though she fears she may be opening old wounds that are best left undisturbed.

Events take an unexpected turn, giving Ryan the opportunity to suggest that they go away together for a few days. To his surprise, Fiona agrees. In the remote cottage their love is rekindled, but it takes a blizzard to erase the past and allow them to start finding out who they really are – together.

NOTE: This is a previously published work. The title, author, and/or publisher may have changed.

Author Bio

When she isn't actually writing, Christie is often thinking about writing - either the book she's currently working on, or one of the dozen other stories she'll have percolating away at the back of her mind.

In addition to writing, she also loves lazing around with a good book, or browsing the internet in search of cute pictures of dogs and puppies, a pastime that often helps with writer's block - or so she claims. She likes James Bond movies, and cries at the end of "You've Got Mail" every time.

Good chocolate is also one of her passions in life, often accompanied by a glass of her favourite tipple, English sparkling wine. And if she can be persuaded to abandon her writing for a while, she finds that chocolate, wine and a good movie on TV is an excellent way to pass a dark winter's evening.

Social Media

Excerpt: The Velvet Ribbon (Club Aegis 1)

The sound of heels on hardwood provided the metronomic fanfare that alerted Alex to the imminent arrival of Beth Harrison—his executive assistant, right-hand woman and, of late, source of growing frustration. He looked up from the correspondence in his hand, eyes narrowing at her approaching reflection in the tinted window that gave him a panoramic view over London.

Those damn fuck-me shoes! A muscle tensed in his tightly clenched jaw. While her working wardrobe went from black to white, with every shade of grey between, her footwear was downright rebellious—immaculate heels, never less than four inches in height, in a myriad selection of styles and eye-catching colours.

Which ones today? It was a question that crossed Alex’s mind every morning. He’d never considered himself to have any kind of shoe fetish until Beth came to work for him. Every morning it was the same, and the litany of colours was ever-expanding. As for today—would it be the peacock blue? Or the metallic purple, perhaps? He was rather fond of the latter.

No, today it was a new pair…new to the office, at any rate. The vivid red patent leather heels, with an ankle strap adorned with an eye-catching bow, were incredibly flattering to her slender feet and shapely ankles…and those gorgeous legs clad in sheer black nylon with seams straighter than an arrow. Oh, the fantasies he’d had about having those legs wrapped around his hips while he sank his cock into her lush body, felt her contract hard around him, heard her panting cries as he spilled inside her at the moment of her climax…

His eyes continued upward, taking in the flannel-grey pencil skirt—the fabric clinging to her curves, so fitted that it gave her hips an ultra-feminine sway as she walked. He experienced a sharp, momentary twinge of disappointment; for the lines to be that smooth, there was no way she was wearing stockings. He tried to curb his disappointment that beneath the skirt, there would be no tantalising exposure of creamy skin at the top of her thighs.

She wore the crisp, brilliant white cotton blouse with the top buttons undone, hinting at a delicious cleavage, the long sleeves fastened at her delicate wrists with mock cufflinks. French-manicured nails tipped elegant fingers that clasped a notebook and pen.

And then there was her face: heart-shaped, lightly made-up, alluring green eyes behind unremarkable spectacles, all crowned by upswept, luxuriant, brown hair threaded with gold, and not one strand out of place. In the three years that she’d been his assistant, he’d never seen her anything less than cool, calm and utterly professional.

What he’d give to see her come apart under the force of the orgasms he could give her.

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Release Blitz: Shopping for a CEO by New York Times Bestselling Author Julia Kent

Happy Release Day! Shopping for a CEO (Shopping for a Billionaire series Book 7) by Julia Kent now available


I’m thrilled to be the maid of honor in my friend’s wedding, but the best man, Andrew McCormick, is a chauvinistic pig with a God complex.

And I can’t stop kissing him in closets.

(Don’t ask.)

He’s the brother of the groom and the CEO of my biggest mystery shopping account, but suddenly he’s refusing to be in the wedding. He won’t talk about it. Won’t see reason.

He’s such a man.

And he still won’t stop kissing me in random closets.

(Thank goodness.)

I’m a fixer. That’s what I do. I can fix anything if given the chance. But when the game is fixed there’s only so much I can do.

The ball’s in his court now.

Game on.

* * *
Shopping for a CEO is the 7th book in the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Shopping series. When CEO Andrew McCormick and mystery shopper Amanda Warrick find themselves in the unlikely position as maid of honor and best man in the Boston society wedding of the year, an undeniable attraction and dual stubborn streaks add fuel to the fire in this romantic comedy from Julia Kent.

Buy links


“Why did you kiss me the first time? That day when I barged into your office?”
He nods, eyes looking at everything and nothing, finally settling on my face. “Because you were so passionate about protecting Shannon. Because you were adorable and irate and you had this energy I wanted to taste.”
I’m holding my breath. I thought we would spend this first date doing the awkward getting-to-know you dance. Andrew’s gone right to the point. Laser focus.
Just like a CEO.
“Yes. I know what I want. I don’t equivocate. I decide and act. I compartmentalize. I issue orders and execute strategy. You came in that day and started ordering me around and it was cute and exciting and inspiring. Oddly sensual. And when you kissed me -- ”
“_You_ kissed _me_!”
“And when _we_ kissed,” he says, eyebrows raised, as if settling this point once and for all, “I got something far more forbidden than I realized I was getting when I went for that simple taste of you.”
“What’s that?”
He studies me, as if sizing me up, trying to determine whether he should tell me what’s next. Or not. Finally, his face changes through a series of three or four emotions, most of them involving some variation of deliberation.
And then:
“You didn’t fit in a box.”
“I fit in a closet.”
He doesn’t laugh.
“You intrigued me.”
“Not enough to call me after that kiss, though.”
He shakes his head. My heart plummets.
“No, Amanda. The opposite. You intrigued me too much.”
I get the sense that the word ‘intrigued’ means something else.
“You mean I scared you.”
His eyes flash with emotion I can’t read.
Men like Andrew McCormick don’t do this. They don’t lay their emotions out on the table like this. Why is he doing this?
“Then why did you kiss me again? And again. And again again -- ”
“I don’t know.”
“C’mon.” The driver takes us onto the Mass Pike, lights flying by like spaceships. Like little orbs shooting past us, filled with people oblivious to the quantum shift taking place inside this tiny space. “You always know. You’re a CEO. You compartmentalize. You execute. You decide. You act. You can’t tell me that the great wunderkind Andrew Mc --”
He’s on me before I can take an inbreath to continue speaking, his body so big and bold, so impulsive and unrelenting. The limo becomes its own dimension, his hands seeking to hold all of me as we tumble into some new plane of awareness that doesn’t factor into any life we’ve known until this moment. His mouth finds mine, hands under my suit jacket, palm cupping the lines of my breasts, my waist, my hips, and he’s tasting me again, this time with an urgent need that comes from an honesty I don’t think he’s felt permission to express in a very long time.
If ever.

Author bio and web/social media links

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken.

She loves to hear from her readers by email at, on Twitter @jkentauthor, and on Facebook at . Visit her website at


Welcome to Destiny Blaine's Online Journal

Welcome to Destiny Blaine's Online Journal
"An Award Winning Bestselling International E-book and Paperback Author, Destiny Blaine and her pseudonyms top the charts at Amazon, Bookstrand, Barnes and Noble, ARE, Mobipocket, and other retailers online and off. Scroll down for a list of available titles, works in progress, and coming soon dates for debut titles.”

Author Bio

An award-winning, international bestselling erotic romance author, Destiny Blaine writes under several pen names. She lives in East Tennessee and spends a lot of time in Connecticut and Virginia, where her granddoll resides.